


Archer’s to-do list(or in other words, a cry for help)

by Anonymous



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Please bear with me, I’m still learning how to write. :(
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: anonymous





	1. - Drink more coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me, I’m still learning how to write. :(

The break room was silent. Save for the low hum of the fridge and... Archer’s light snoring. It was still early in the morning, and Archer had conked out before he could make himself a cup of coffee. He was at the table, head resting atop his folded arms. 

The break room door opened with a small squeak, Cyril ambling in. He stopped short of seeing Archer sleeping soundly, Cyril’s head tilting just slightly in question. He made his way to the fridge, opening it and taking one of the many jars with his name written on it. He was going to leave, but his curiosity got the best of him. Putting the jar down onto the table, Cyril ever so gently tapped Archer’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. No reaction. Cyril tapped him again, a little harder this time.

“Cyril, do that again and I’ll force feed you one of Krieger’s test tube babies” Archer suddenly mumbled. Cyril jumped.

“You’re awake? Wait, how’d you know it was me?” Cyril questioned. Archer groaned.

“I saw your ugly shoes when you walked in” Archer said humourlessly, lifting his head up from his arms, showing Cyril the dark bags under his eyes. Cyril furrowed his eyebrows in mild concern.

“... jeezy petes Archer. You look terrible.” Cyril said. He’s noticed some things about Archer since he woke up. He was quieter, more bitter, skeptical, and seemingly tired beyond belief. Cyril wouldn’t admit it, but he was genuinely relieved to have Archer wake up. Though Cyril WOULD admit he was in a better place while Archer was comatose. Cyril would decide to be the better man and attend to Archer out of sympathy. Seeing him in his current state, barely awake, Cyril felt the need to do SOMEthing to help. Archer looked annoyed.

“I don’t need your fucking pity, Cyril. Sleeping is like going back into a coma, so it’s not entirely fun to do” Archer spit out, rubbing his eyes intensely. Oh. Things just sunk in for Cyril. Of COURSE Archer didn’t get any sleep. How awful, Cyril thought. He underestimated the impact of waking up from a 3 year long coma. Of course it was traumatizing... Cyril furrowed his eyebrows once more.

“Uh- I- I didn’t know that, Archer... I’m sorry.. it’s like that..” Cyril awkwardly apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. Archer looked at him with blank, tired eyes, only to return to his sleeping position. Cyril could only stare, before coming up with a way to help. He shifted slightly.

“Mind if I make you a coffee? I just need to warm up the pot” Cyril offered. There was silence. Then, Archer moved, stuffing his hand into his suit pocket, pulling out a medium sized flask and extending it to Cyril, head still resting on his other arm.

“put that in there” Archer said quietly. Cyril gratefully took the flask with a small smile, heading to the counter to fix up a cup for Archer.

~~~~~

The smell of warm spiked coffee woke Archer up. He lifted his head, expecting to find Cyril, only to find himself once again alone in the break room. Had he slept through Cyril making him coffee? Funny.

Archer silently took the mug in front of him and took a test sip.

Yup. Waaaay too much coffee. Needed more booze. It’d help him forget about being awake. Not that he liked being asleep... Maybe a limbo state was ideal for him.


	2. - Stay out of the water, you can’t swim anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy~

Archer KNEW he should’ve been the one driving the speedboat, nOT Cyril. His turns were way too sharp! This was proven after Cyril banked left for the millionth time in a poor attempt to dodge the incoming bullets, flinging Archer off the back of the boat and into the freezing water.

... SPLASH!!!

... all of a sudden, Archer was taken back to 3 years ago, face down in that chlorinated pool, his blood slowly seeping through his clothes, turning the water a deep red. Dull stinging, then, nothing. Nothing but... nothing...

nononononO-

Before Archer could go into full panic mode, his face breached the surface. He took in an immediate gulp of air, before pathetically sinking once more.

His legs... they weren’t responding... Archer’s limbs were flailing discordantly, as if he’d forgotten how to swim. Flashbacks would do that, Archer guessed. His head kept bobbing into and out of the water, sending the latter up and into Archer’s nose with annoying consistency.

“Pfffpfuckinggglllgll- cyril-COUGH-cyril, I swear to- blllbbgod! I... I can’t... COUGH,, fucking.... breathhheggglglg...” Archer complained to himself, readying to drown. Kick, kick, to no avail. His heavy tactical clothing wasn’t helping him stay afloat.

“Stuppppid... legs.. blbstupidbbl,, com-COUGH-a.. bullshit...” Archer spit. He stopped kicking. His racing heartbeat and the sound of sloshing water was all Archer could hear. He let himself sink, trying to remember how it felt to drown when Lana was comforting him aboard the Sea Tunt. Archer shut his eyes in fear.

~~~~~

Cyril definitely got better at handling missions since Archer’s coma. Something shifted in his demeanour when Archer was brought to the ER, suddenly Cyril was exercising every day and practising positive self talk. Things were better for him! 

The speedboat slowed to a stop, Cyril dual wielding the latter’s handle and a crossbow.

“I think that’s all of them... great work Archer” Cyril said, turning his head to see no one on the boat with him. Uh oh.

Cyril looked around frantically, coming to the conclusion that Archer must’ve been flung off the boat. FUCK.

“ARCHER? omygodomygodomygod ARCHEEER!” Cyril called out, beginning to panic. NO! Now wasn’t the time to panic! Making a faster than usual decision, Cyril threw off his glasses, priming himself to jump into the water. 

~~~~~

It was cold. Archer couldn’t feel anything, but somehow, he was cold. It was dark, almost as if he’d reached the bottom of the reservoir. It wasn’t the deepest water, so it would make sense.

A sound. A shadow. Then, a strong arm around his torso, yanking him upward. The sudden jerky movement was Archer’s cue to finally black out. Someone was saving him, he didn’t need to worry.

Right?

~~~~~

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

“c’mn.. rcher... not dead.... ou’re not dead.... c’MON!”

THUMP

... 

COUGH! HACKK!

Ow, that stung. Wait, what was happening? Where was he?! Before Archer could find that out, he was rolled quickly onto his side by a strong hand. Archer continued to cough up water, the amount of it in his lungs seemingly endless. The hand on his back patted him a couple of times before leaving. No, wait, Archer kind of liked the contact... from whoever it was...

Wait. Wasn’t he in the middle of a missio-

“Lana, everything’s a-ok! Archer’s awake.. nO, I’m NOT panicking!... yes I- I left the boat! Right, we’ll be at the extraction point soon, uh.. over!”

That was an annoyingly familiar voice... Archer was finished coughing, rolling onto his back once more, the Sun blinding him. Oh. It just disappeared. Wait, no, something was in front of it? Archer’s eyes adjusted to the sudden silhouette above him, revealing Cyril’s punchable face. His glasses were missing...

“Archer? Archer are you with me? Hey.” Cyril said with relief in his voice. He tapped Archer’s cheek lightly, making him recoil.

“Get- off me.” Archer grunted. Cyril was WAY too close. Archer slowly sat up, a hand returning to his back in assistance. He’d have been grateful for the hand if it didn’t belong to the idiot who THREW HIM OFF A DAMN SPEEDBOAT. Archer wasn’t about to forgive him just yet. Though, Cyril DID just save his life, maybe they were even. For now. Instead of holding a grudge, Archer simply punched Cyril’s arm as hard as he could, eliciting a satisfying yelp from him.

“OW- ARCH- What the Hell was that for?!” Cyril questioned, still in panic mode from almost losing a teammate. Archer punched him again, harder this time. Cyril managed to block the incoming hit, an astonished look on his face. He really didn’t get it, huh? 

“Where’s the speedboat Cyril? You know, the one you LITERALLY LAUNCHED ME OFF OF?” Archer asked sarcastically, before going into another coughing fit. That damn hand returned to Archer’s back, this time rubbing it slightly. What was his DEAL?

“Take it easy Archer, we’re safe enough to get to extraction without getting caught” Cyril reassured, though his face said something entirely different.

Wait. It just sunk in. CYRIL saved him... that mean the possibility of- EW!

“WAIT YOU GAVE ME MOUTH TO MOUTH?!?!” Archer suddenly accused. Cyril looked up at Archer quickly, his face going red almost immediately.

“W-WHAT? NO! I DIDN’T! I- it-“

“Cyril I swear to God if your lips touched mine at any point between me almost drowning and you MAGICALLY waking me up, I will have them ripped off. Your lips, I mean.”

Cyril could do nothing but stare at Archer incredulously. He opened his mouth to say something, but a scoff came out instead.

“OKAY! I DID GIVE YOU MOUTH TO MOUTH BUT THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU WERE-“ Before Cyril could finish, Archer pushed Cyril back into the water in front of him with a loud splash. He laughed. Maybe because he was happy to be alive.

Or maybe because he was still terrified.

... Screw water.


	3. - Sleep where no one will bother you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fail to make things feel heartfelt in writing, so I apologize if you don’t get anything out of reading this...
> 
> My hopes are that you enjoy~
> 
> Extra apologies for making Archer and Cyril so OOC, I suck :’’’O

“I dunno Cyril! You’re both men, bond over that!” Lana said disinterestedly, taking Cyril by the shoulders and directing him to his personal office, where a sleeping Archer currently resided. This was a new habit Archer formed since waking from his coma. His sleep was abysmal, so he’d sneak into Cyril’s office, where no one would suspect him to be, and try to catch some z’s on the clock. Cyril was having none of it, so he ratted Archer out to Lana, hoping she’d do something to help get him out.

“Cyril, look, let’s give Archer a break, okay? He’s obviously going through something and needs our support” Lana said, continuing to direct Cyril to his office, stopping him short of the door. Cyril turned around quickly.

“Exactly Lana! OUR support! Let’s talk with him together! Archer agrees with you more, right? I can’t do this alone!” Cyril begged, taking lana’s shoulders pleadingly. Lana gave Cyril her “how dare you touch me” face, making him recoil and let go of her, backing up. He gulped.

“Okay... okay. I’m going” Cyril gave in, turning back around to face the door.

“Alright Cyril... you can do this! Don’t let him get to you” Cyril said quietly to himself before slowly opening the door and walking in.

The light was off. Cyril decided to keep it that way as to not wake Archer up abruptly. He looked over at the sleeping lump on the couch to the left of the office, walking towards it. Archer was breathing deeply, suggesting he was sleeping heavily. With a swift lift of his hand, Cyril snapped his fingers. When Archer didn’t react, Cyril bent down slightly, reaching out to grab Archer’s shoulder and shake it. As soon as Cyril’s hand made contact with Archer’s shoulder, the latter twitched violently, a scream exiting his throat. Archer grabbed Cyril’s wrist and twisted it backward, pinning him to the ground on his belly. Suddenly, Archer unsheathed a knife from his ankle, grabbing Cyril by the hair and putting the knife to his throat.

This all happened in a matter of 3 seconds.

Archer was breathing heavily, his eyes bulging in a seemingly blind fury. Cyril twitched.

“A-A-Arch.. er?” Cyril squeaked, voice stiff with terror. The heavy body on top of him continued to breathe heavily, hand tightening around his hair for a second before letting go. The knife left Cyril’s throat, as well as the weight on his back. 

What the fuck just happened?

Cyril was too afraid to move or roll over, frozen by shock. Archer nudged Cyril’s ribs with his shoe.

“Get up..” Archer said tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and taking a seat back down onto the couch. He put his head in his hands. Cyril scrambled to a sitting position before cautiously getting up, eyes locked onto Archer.

“Don’t worry Cyril, I’m not gonna do anything. Else.” Archer said. He groaned in frustration, putting his head in his hands once more. Cyril wrung his hands together nervously.

“Uh... what- what was that? Just now?” Cyril questioned shakily, looking at Archer in fear and anxiety. He adjusted his crooked glasses. Archer sighed heavily.

“I don’t know! I thought you were part of my- my dream.” Archer said, unsure of himself. Had Archer been alone, he would’ve called what he just had a nightmare. Or by virtue of the time of day, a daymare. He was still wracked with mild tremors. Most likely fueled by a need to kill whoever was invading his dream world. Archer’s dreams have become a lot more vivid and immersive since being asleep for 3 literal straight years. First the mystery of who killed Woodhouse, then an island fiasco, space chaos, and now, a slew of fears and reality setting in. His dreams were getting way too serious. Cyril relaxed a little.

“Okay... so you’re having nightmares? Or- bad dreams?... Do you- wanna talk about it..?” Cyril asked hesitantly, still rooted to the ground in fear that he’d scare Archer again by moving. It was some flawed logic, but fear would do that to people. Especially Cyril. Archer waved his hand dismissively.

“No Cyril, I just want to sleep” Archer complained, returning to his fetal position on the couch. Cyril didn’t know what to do.

“Well, this is my office and I still have to work, so I’ll be at my desk?” Cyril said, almost as if he was asking for permission to work in his own office. Archer silently lifted his hand in a thumbs up, giving Cyril the go-to to leave him alone. 

~~~~~

13 mins later...

Cyril jumped in his desk seat when he heard a small voice. It was Archer, saying something in his sleep? Cyril got up from his desk, looking across the room to where Archer was sleeping. The light was still off, so he could only make out a dark blob. Another mumble, then the blob twitched.

“No... dn’t doit..” Archer mumbled, breathing heavily now. He began to toss, whimpering uncharacteristically. This prompted Cyril to ball up a blank sheet of paper, quickly underhand-tossing it at Archer’s facial region. It hit his forehead, and he woke up immediately, screaming. 

“Archer?! Archer Archer Archer hey it’s okay, you’re in my office, it was just a dream!” Cyril said hurriedly, raising his hands and walking over to Archer. When he got close enough him, he saw sweat lining Archer’s forehead. He was still breathing heavily, his face in an alert expression. He looked up at Cyril and gulped. He looked scared.

“Okay, oKAY, enough of this” Cyril said, walking to the light switch and turning it on. Archer looked down to hide his face, as if he was embarrassed. 

Cyril put on his metaphorical big boy pants, walking back over to Archer and crossing his arms.

“Look, Archer, I know I’m not the person you go to for help, so why don’t I get Pam?” Cyril almost demanded. 

“I don’t need help, I need to fucking sleep” Archer said, voice cracking unexpectedly. He was so tired that he almost felt like crying. Not in a million years would Archer be vulnerable around his least favourite person. So why was his face getting hot? Why were his eyes watering? Why were his nightmares so fucking effective?! Archer hid his head in his hands once more.

“Turn off the light please...” Archer said defeatedly. Once the office went dark, Archer felt comfortable enough to cry silently. Cyril remained standing in front of Archer, arms crossed, face slowly contorting from a serious expression to one of concern.

Archer felt the couch cushion beside him dip, then, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Archer flinched, not welcoming the touch, making the hand recoil. After a few seconds, it slowly came back, more gently this time.

“If you want me to break your arm, just ask” Archer said in warning. The hand didn’t leave.

“You know... I get them too.” Cyril spoke up, completely disregarding Archer’s hostility. He had balls all of a sudden. Well, Archer did notice a change in Cyril’s demeanour since he woke up from his coma. He was more stubborn, and braver. Archer would never admit that Cyril was doing better off, but he did acknowledge it. Cyril continued.

“Nightmares, I mean. Mostly about people I’ve killed during missions.. sometimes about you ruining my life.. occasionally about my dad..” Cyril said, getting lost in thought. Archer slapped Cyril’s hand, making him recoil again.

“Sorry. I don’t know how to help.” Cyril admitted. The two of them awkwardly shifted away from each other. They remained silent for a minute before Archer sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his forearm nonchalantly. He directed his gaze to Cyril, looking at him a little thoughtfully.

“Uh, well... thanks for trying.” Archer said, averting his gaze when Cyril looked back at him, frowning.

Another minute of silence. Then, Cyril spoke up.

“... I’m here for you, you know” he said seriously. Then, he got up from his seat on the couch, returning to his desk to keep working, despite his urges to help Archer. He couldn’t help. He was Cyril. Archer would never accept help from him. 

“Wait” Archer said, taking Cyril’s wrist before he could leave. It was the wrist Archer had twisted, and was bruised slightly. Archer looked down from it, trying to focus on what he was trying to say. Man, he was tired.

“I... I’d like to talk about it.”

Cyril turned around, a confused look on his face.

“About my dr- about my... my nightmares.” Archer finalized, embarrassed. And with that, Cyril sat back down. He listened intently.


	4. - Continue physical therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been running out of ideas lately, so I attempted to write this chapter to a personally beloved song. I hope this suffices as reading material :’’O 
> 
> The biggest criticism I can give myself is that things are a little too similar in theme from chapter to chapter. What do you think? Am I repeating myself too much?

The explosion brought down most of the warehouse, Archer caught in the falling rubble. Wow, collapsing buildings were a lot louder than Archer imagined. The noise was so loud in fact, that Archer didn’t notice something cold and dull embed itself into his left shin in the chaos. He was on his belly now, hands covering his head to prevent any further damage to it. The noise didn’t cease, so Archer stayed where he was. Out of nowhere, a giant weight hit his back, taking the air out of his lungs. Whatever it was, it knocked Archer out cold. 

The dust settled ceremoniously, and rather ominously. It was quiet. But the silence was short lived. A crunch of broken wood, a cough, then, a voice. Cyril’s voice.

“ARCHEEEER!!!” He screamed. Archer was much closer to the bomb, so Cyril was on the verge of assuming that his colleague was dead. As much as Cyril wanted Archer gone in general, something about him dying during a mission, by a building no less, didn’t sit well with him. He began searching for Archer, scrambling from one rubble pile to the next. 3 minutes went by, and he found nothing. No one. Archer was dead. Cyril kept looking.

“You’re not gone Archer.. you’re not dead” Cyril convinced himself. He almost didn’t WANT to find Archer. What would he do if he discovered his mangled body, crushed by concrete and wood? What would he tell Lana? What would he tell MALLORY?! He began to tear up, still searching. Something caught Cyril’s eye, and he immediately went to it. It was Archer’s tactalcane.. bent at an obtuse angle. Cyril fell to his knees, gingerly taking the cane into his hands. He lowered his head.

“nonononono- Archer- you can’t be gone.. I still need you to help me, on the mi... the mission... *hick*” Cyril managed, holding Archer’s cane with a vice grip.

“You know Cyril- COUGH- your sadness is almost flattering” a familiar voice came from Cyril’s left side, making him jump and turn immediately towards it. It was Archer! He was alive!! Though, his current state was compromising. Archer had a large concrete slab on his back, his legs in a tangle of splintered wood. Cyril was speechless, dropping the cane and approaching Archer’s left side quickly. Without so much as a relieved greeting, Cyril grabbed the concrete slab, lifting it about an inch off of Archer. Wow, he was strong lately.

“HUUUUURGH!!!” Cyril grunted through clenched teeth, managing to push the slab off of Archer with an enormous thud. Ah, that felt nice, Archer thought. Cyril was messing around with Archer’s legs now, silent in his efforts. Archer shifted slightly to look at Cyril. He was a bit of a mess as well, his face was full of dirt, his tactical clothing ripped up in several places, most notably his torso, where a deep red line marred his exposed skin from his ribcage to his back. That looked serious. Archer dismissed his anxieties, annoyed now.

“You could at least say something regarding my heroic survival, Cyril.” Archer chided. Cyril responded with a sniffle of his nose. He looked at Archer with soft, teary eyes.

“... Glad to have you NOT fully pancaked, Archer.” Cyril said, relieved. He was almost finished digging Archer out of the pile of wood, when he accidentally tugged on a piece of rebar, making Archer yelp in pain. Cyril flinched. He looked at the rebar closely...

It was sticking out of Archer’s left shin. Oh god.. it was gushing blood. Cyril gagged.

“OW! Cyril what the Hell was that?!” Archer said in pain. He shifted his leg gently, only to have it tug against something. He yelped again. Cyril brought his arms out in concern.

“Archer don’t move! You’ve- you’ve got a piece of- bleeuggh- rebar- bLECH- sticking out of your shin...” Cyril managed to say without puking everywhere. He took a closer look at the injury. The rebar was still attached to a piece of concrete on the other side of the wound. It went all the way through... Without notice, Cyril ripped off his right sleeve. He had to do this quickly.

“Archer, this is gonna hurt, but I have to get your leg out of this rebar...” Cyril said, focused. Without warning, he pulled Archer’s leg out from the rebar holding him, wrapping his shin in the sleeve quickly. Archer had no time to react, so his eyes simply bugged out, before he fainted.

~~~~~

He felt someone shake him wildly by the shoulders. His eyes slowly opened, and Cyril was looking at him with eyes of fear. He was on his back now, which meant Cyril must’ve rolled him over. His left shin was throbbing horribly. 

“Archer! You’re okay! God I thought you died! It.. wouldn’t make a lot of sense if you did but... I’m a little rattled, okay?!” Cyril said, exhausted just by speaking. He kept one hand on Archer’s shoulder, guiding him up into a sitting position. Damn, that made Archer dizzy.

“Easy now” Cyril said gently. He didn’t expect to get shoved away by Archer. He also didn’t expect Archer to get up onto his legs quickly, before putting weight on his injured leg, yelping again, and falling back down with an annoyed grunt.

“Great! I’m even more impaired!” Archer said, exasperated. Cyril approached him again, slipping his arm under Archer’s armpits, readying to assist him. Archer looked at Cyril incredulously.

“Archer, you have to let me help you. I get it, you hate me, you hate everything I do, but just let me do my job!” Cyril said passionately, taking Archer in a bridal hold. Archer was in shock.

“What’re you doing?! Put me down!” Archer argued, wiggling in Cyril’s grip. He stopped when he accidentally moved his leg the wrong way, sending a shot of pain through it. He clenched his teeth. Cyril started walking.

“As much as I’d like to drop you in this state, the rest of this building is about to collapse and I don’t want us in it when that happens.” Cyril said snidely at the first remark. He slowly stepped through the rubble, broken glass crunching under his boots as he made his way to what remained of the warehouse entrance. Archer was looking at Cyril, still in disbelief. Never in a thousand years would Cyril defy his orders! So why was he still carrying him? 

... aside from the pain at every step Cyril took, Archer was... comfortable. Something about being helped without asking for it... it almost felt nice. Archer couldn’t admit it. His face went red.

“So, what? Feel like a hot shot for saving my life? Which you didn’t technically do. I survived by the odds.” Archer said, realizing how childish he sounded. His face went redder.

“Archer, I’m just glad you’re okay, okay?” Cyril said, making Archer scoff.

~~~~~

They made it out just in time, the rest of the warehouse crumbling behind them noisily. Cyril fell to his knees, still holding Archer, huffing. Archer felt something warm and sticky where his body was pressed against Cyril’s, so he looked over at Cyril’s torso, where that large cut was. Blood was slowly seeping out of it. Archer furrowed his eyebrows.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” Archer said as he was gently brought to the ground. Cyril raised an eyebrow.

“What- *huff*- are you worried?” Cyril asked with attempted levity in his voice. He put his hands on his wound for a second, lifting them up to see them covered in deep crimson. That was a... a lot of blood. A.... a lot of........ 

“CYRIL!” Archer called out to him. Wh... wha? Did he just black out? It seems Archer was calling his name repeatedly.

“Wha- huh...?” Cyril looked up from his hands, making eye contact with Archer. He looked... concerned?

Before Cyril could protest, Archer scooted closer to him, mindful of his leg, taking off his tactalneck and balling it up, handing it to Cyril. He just stared at it.

“It’s already dirty, just take it.” Archer said, shoving the turtleneck into Cyril’s now slightly trembling hands. Cyril took it, looking at it stupidly. Archer huffed in irritation, taking Cyril’s hands and guiding them to his wound. 

“Where’s your satcom? I lost mine and we need to call for an extraction before we both bleed out” Archer said hurriedly. He patted down Cyril, taking a walkie-talkie out of his left pant pocket. Cyril closed his eyes, he was tired.

~~~~~

When extraction arrived, Lana and Ray found Archer and Cyril back to back, sitting by the entrance to what was once a drug manufacturing warehouse. They were both out cold, their heads resting against each others shoulders.

Lana thought that was cute. 

Ray was panicking at all the blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you’d like me to continue this. Critiques and requests are highly appreciated! Thank you for reading, have a great one! - J


End file.
